


in the grip of this cold december (you and I have reason to remember)

by pumpkinspicedshaniac



Category: Ghosts (TV 2019)
Genre: Christmas, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Memories, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:41:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29439876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pumpkinspicedshaniac/pseuds/pumpkinspicedshaniac
Summary: Christmas has left Pat lost in his thoughts. Luckily, the Captain is there to help him.
Relationships: Pat Butcher/The Captain (Ghosts TV 2019)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 51
Collections: PatCap Valentine's Week 2021





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea why I decided to write a Christmas fic in February but there we are. The title is from Soldiers by ABBA.

Pat had found a favourite sitting spot. It was a window seat on the second floor, overlooking the back gardens and he sat there a lot in the days after Christmas. Snow was still blanketing the grounds and the little sunlight that peeked through the rain-heavy clouds made it glisten. The sight made it hard for Pat to wallow in self-pity, but Christmas always had the power to stir up strong emotions in him, ones that would not be so easily tamed. There were mainly positive when he was alive; Daley’s excitement was infectious, and the presence of his nephews and their own enthusiasm increased the good feelings tenfold. But those had died along with Pat, and Christmas would always be colder for it, even though Alison had tried. It was better than it had been in years, Pat thought with a smile.

A shuffling noise behind him alerted Pat to the Captain’s presence. The man was bathed in the dim white light that glared up from the snow-coated garden and Pat knew the squeezing in his stomach was not holiday blues.

“Are you alright, Pat?” The Captain’s voice was almost tender. Last month’s wedding had softened him, and Christmas seemed only to add to that. Pat was glad; the Captain had never looked happier.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Thank you,” Pat attempted a smile, but it was a dead weight on his lips. The Captain appeared to notice that; frown lines had appeared between his eyebrows.

“Now, we’ll have none of that, thank you. You may be able to fool yourself, but not this old goat.”

Pat smiled involuntarily at that, “You’re not that old, you daft sod. Not by Button House standards, anyway.” He looked up to see the Captain gazing at him expectantly.

“I suppose not. But there’s something on your mind, Patrick, and I’ll be damned if I leave without even offering you a friendly ear.”

“Well… it’s just hard around the holidays,” Pat started with a sigh, “They were never perfect when I was alive, but it’s like Julian said, that’s what made it good. I’ve missed so much. Christmases with Daley were magic, and I’ll never get another one. I’ll never get to see baby Pat enjoy it either. I know it’s not just Christmas I’m missing out on, but it feels harder this time of year, you know?”

“I do.”

“I don’t want to be all mardy about it while everyone else is having fun. I am trying to be happy. Alison and Mike have made it much better this year, but…”

“It’s not the same,” The Captain finished Pat’s sentence for him with a nod of understanding, “I think you of all people are justified in being a little negative from time to time. You had a son and… a wife. I suppose it’s only normal to miss them.” He cleared his throat and paused to gather his words, not at all used to being the figure of comfort, “What I’m trying to say is it’s okay to be sad, but perhaps you should focus on the good, not what you are missing out on. You see?”

Pat regarded him for a moment, before smiling up at the Captain, “That’s a lovely way to think about it. Thanks, Cap.”

“Oh, it’s nothing, Patrick.”

Pat expected him to leave then, but instead, he sat down beside Pat, who took his wallet out of his pocket. He had always carried around tons of pictures inside of it. Looking at them had been too painful before, but something in the Captain’s presence and the new energy present around the old house gave Pat the confidence to look at them. He studied the first one, before holding it up to the Captain.

It was of Daley on Christmas Eve, sitting by the lit tree with mince pie on his cheeks and a light twinkling in his eyes. The corners of the Captain’s eyes crinkled as he looked down at it. It didn’t bother Pat that he noticed, not as it did. He was getting used to his feelings.

“Christmas Eve, 1981. Lovely one that year, a proper White Christmas. You should have seen the look on Daley’s face; I didn’t think anyone could smile that much,” There was a pang in his chest as he spoke, but the Captain’s words came back to him. _Focus on the good._ He could do that.

“Children always have the ability to surprise you, I find. I had nephews, you see.” An unconscious smile had crept onto the Captain’s face as he gazed out of the window, “They were euphoric over the snow every year. It never failed to amaze them.”

“I didn’t know you had nephews.”

“Well… now, you do.” He said with a shrug, but the smile hadn’t dropped. Pat found himself smiling too; the Captain really was opening up. Baby steps, of course, but he was getting there.

Pat flipped to the next picture, “Oh another Christmas one,” He said with a chuckle, “Think I’ve got a theme going here.”

It didn’t go unnoticed by either of them how the Captain shuffled closer, and how Pat leaned in. Their knees brushed and their elbows were pressed together, but neither of them made an effort to move as Pat spoke, putting anecdotes to faces in the seemingly never-ending photos.

\----

Hours later, the Captain was walking Pat through the silent house to his room. That had been happening a lot recently, though neither of them spoke about it. Pat was touched by the small act of chivalry; it fuelled the bright smile he wore the whole way there.

“Thanks, Cap.” Pat said when they reached his door.

“What for?”

“Just being there. I needed someone today.”

The Captain gripped his swagger stick tighter, “Ah, well, you’re welcome, Patrick. It was nothing really. If it wasn’t me, someone else would have come along, I’m sure.”

Pat smiled up at him fondly, “But I’m glad it was you anyhow.”

Before either of them could compute the weight behind Pat’s words, a rebellious part of him, one that’s walls were worn away by hours of talking and warm feelings, forced him up onto his tiptoes. And Pat pressed a light kiss onto the Captain’s stubbly cheek.

“Night, Cap.”

He walked away, leaving a dumbfounded but happy Captain in his wake.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't intend on adding to the first chapter of this but someone requested it so here we are. In my eyes, I am pretty bad at writing from the Captain's perspective so apologies in advance if this is ooc. 
> 
> Happy reading :)

Button House was dark. It was the kind of dark that amplifies every sound, the kind that brings every memory back with crystal clear quality, that makes them hurt so much more.

_I’m afraid I’m leaving you, sir._

The Captain was up far later than he was used to. The clock just outside his room ticked incessantly, reminding him of the deviation from his routine, of how ridiculous this was. The Captain sat up in bed, his posture as perfect as usual, but his mind plagued with memories. Ones of a love lost.

_I mean this with all the love in the world, Cap._

And a love gained.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” The Captain admonished himself quietly, his voice lost in the all-consuming dark. It wasn’t love, not with Havers and certainly not with Pat. They were colleagues, comrades, friends even. Men forced together through impossible situations; all he had done was make the best of them. The Captain supposed that, had he lived longer, he would have found a woman to marry and settle down with. Not to love, no. He wasn’t sure he was capable of that. But that was the way things were going to be, how they would have been. He wasn’t…

The Captain cut that thought off and pushed all those complicated feelings away. It was easier that way. He didn’t know what they meant, what they were for. They were too big and too terrifying. They had the power to change everything, he just knew it.

And if his stomach gave funny jolts whenever his eyes met Pat, if his heart sang at his touch, if his world had expanded when Pat’s kiss found his cheek, what did that mean really?

\-----

By the next morning, the Captain resolved to avoid his fellow Button House residents at all costs, even if it meant he’d miss out on his timed runs and documentaries. But he was fine with that; sacrifices were always made in war, and that was certainly what was going on inside of him. If he stopped to think about it, about why he was staying out of view of the house, and who he was really avoiding, the Captain knew he’d crack under the weight of it. So he didn’t stop.

The perimeter of the gardens became the Captain’s training grounds. He wandered up and down, walking through his exercises and humming war tunes loudly into the still air. He didn’t think about anything but the snow on the ground and the rising sun.

Alison called him at 8 o'clock, once, twice, then she shut the window. Robin was next, around midday, his voice loud and laced with boredom. He slinked away after a few minutes. No one else came. The Captain was glad of it.

He was. He didn’t allow himself to think otherwise.

\-----

There were two men at Sam and Clare’s wedding. Well, there had been many, but two, in particular, had caught the Captain’s eye. They were both around his age and they sat near the window for most of the night, watching the dancers, and holding hands. The Captain watched several times as they kissed. And he wasn’t sure if it was the romance of the day, or the bright lights, or the great air of acceptance about it all, but the Captain looked from the men over at Pat as he danced with abandon. Something inside the Captain forced him away from the outskirts of the wedding party, and right into Pat’s orbit. It felt right. He couldn’t explain it, but it felt so terribly right.

\-----

And then, somewhere by the lake, as he stood staring into its depths, it made sense. His brain put it altogether piece by piece. It _made sense_ ; the Captain knew why being by Pat’s side felt like the place he belonged. He knew he couldn’t stay out there much longer, not now denial had given way to truth. And what a beautifully terrifying truth it was.

\-----

The Captain’s resistance snapped late into the night. If he had been alive, the cold would have driven him back inside the house sooner, and though he couldn’t feel it, that was the excuse he used, to himself at least. But he still found himself outside Pat’s room, waiting with a racing heartbeat.

There was a low humming from inside; Pat was singing under his breath, a song that the Captain instantly recognised. It was something he himself often sung – one of his favourites.

“Patrick?” He called, just loud enough so that Julian wouldn’t hear from his room next door.

The humming stopped and there was silence for a moment, before Pat called back, “Come in!”

The Captain forced himself forwards into Pat’s room. He knew that things would change forever when he left, for better or for worse. But he wouldn’t deny himself much longer. He was an _officer_ , not a coward.

Pat was standing at the end of his bed, hands behind his back. The room was dark, the only light coming from the desk lamp, but the Captain could still see that Pat was chewing his bottom lip.

“Are you okay, Cap? No-one’s heard from you all day.”

“Of course. Everyone needs time for themselves now and again. I had exercise to do and a good day to do it.”

The Captain saw Pat’s eyes dart to the window. It had begun snowing again rather heavily and it was painfully obvious to both of them that it was definitely _not_ a good day to be outside.

“Ah. Well, I was hoping I’d bump into you anyway. I just wanted to…” Pat lowered his gaze to the floor, “Apologise for last night. I shouldn’t have…”

The Captain’s stomach clenched at the admission. If Pat had regretted it, then he’d made a grave mistake coming here.

“I just thought that-” Pat stopped himself again, his hands now clenched at his side.

“You thought what?” the Captain asked quietly, not quite wanting to hear the answer.

Pat exhaled slowly, “That you might… like me,” His voice was quiet, apologetic, “As more than friends, I mean.”

Just once in the past few hours had the Captain allowed himself to imagine the scene now playing before him. It was a bright and uncomplicated scene in his mind’s eye, full of the ease he always felt around Pat. He _hadn’t_ pictured Pat looking as fragile as he now did, as if he’d ruined something precious. In that moment, seeing him like that, the Captain wanted to reach out for Pat, to hold him for as long as time would allow. So, he closed the gap between them.

“Well, Patrick, I have always commented on how astute you are.”

Pat looked up at him with disbelieving eyes, “You mean, you… feel the same?”

The Captain took a deep breath, feeling as if he was trekking through uncharted waters. _This isn’t right. This isn’t you,_ a voice in the back of his mind told him. But the Captain was no fool. Even during the war, in those evenings he spent hours talking to Havers, he felt different, more himself than he had ever been. The Captain didn’t understand what that meant until he looked into Pat Butcher’s eyes and found home there.

“I think… yes, it’s safe to say I do.”

Pat smiled, threading their hands together, “Brillo pads.”

The Captain rolled his eyes fondly, and their lips met each other halfway.


End file.
